Tabula Rasa
by icicle33
Summary: Draco and Harry come to a truce, but Harry is still uneasy around Draco and doesn't trust him. What happens when Draco pins Harry against a wall and snogs the daylights out of him?
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: _Tabula Rasa_ (1/?)

**Author name**: Icicle

**Author email: **

**Category**: slash/angst/dark fic/ dark humour /romance

**Keywords**: Draco, Harry, Blaise, Pansy, Slytherins and D/H

**Spoilers**: For the first five books because this takes place after the events of OTTP, so it's Non- HBP and DH compliant.

**Rating**: PG-13 for m/m snogging session and mature language; future chapters will probably be R because of bad language and sexual content.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own these boys even though I wish I did.

**Author's note:** Hello everyone! This is the first story I have posted here in an extremely long time, especially since I deleted many of my other really old, badly written stories. I believe I am a better writer now than when I first started posting stories back in 2001(still in middle school) *Hopefully*.

Anyway, this is my first slash story, so be gentle and if you don't like **slash** that means male/male **snogging**, **shagging**, and lots of other **naughty shenanigans** then don't read it. It's not my intention to offend anyone and this part of the story doesn't actually contain anything worse than a male/male snogging session as well as a little foul language, so I don't believe it will be offensive to even non-slashers. Still, you've been warned. I don't want any flames about Harry being snogged by another bloke.

This story is completely from Harry's POV, so at times the writing might be choppy, frantic, or lacking complete sentences. I intended it to be this way because I wanted this first part to be purely in Harry's head and his reaction to being snogged by not just another boy, but Malfoy. Let me know what you think and make sure that you read the mini-prologue, so you understand what events led to this point.

* * *

**Mini Prologue:**

This is a 6th year fic and this opening scene takes place a couple months into the school year. Shortly after returning for 6th year, Harry and Malfoy form a truce of some sort, which was initiated by Malfoy. I'm not going to go into the details of how it happened. I'll save that as additional material for this fic if people want me to expand it. Anyway, at this point in the story, Harry and Malfoy have formed a truce, but Harry still doesn't trust Malfoy. Harry insists that if they are going to form a truce, then they have to attempt to be friends or at least some semblance of a friendship. Malfoy reluctantly agrees, but the two start spending time together and Harry decides that perhaps he doesn't hate Malfoy as much, although he still finds him just as insufferable, if not more so than before. They are arguing about god knows what as they always do, and this time to shut him up, Malfoy slams Harry up against the wall, pins his hands behind his back and starts kissing him ruthlessly.

* * *

_**Tabula Rasa**_

**Part 1**

**:::::::**

Strong hands shoved Harry up against the corridor wall and kissed him hard, _too hard_. The boy's mouth tasted like coffee and cigarettes. Harry has always hated the smell of tobacco—_before_, it had even nauseated him, but now it was riveting and even enticing. His mouth tasted like vanilla cloves, bitter coffee, and an unfamiliar sweetness that Harry never would have imagined.

This wasn't right. It couldn't be right.

Harry was flattened up against a wall with his hands awkwardly pinned behind his back. Where was he again? Oh right, he was in some distant corridor of the castle, somewhere around the fourth floor where he never usually wandered. Near the Hufflepuff wing perhaps? He couldn't even think straight. This was wrong; this was a _man_ kissing him furiously, hungrily, and haughtily.

He wasn't gay.

He never fancied blokes before..._never_...and worse of all _this_...bloke, if you could even call him that...Malfoy.

Malfoy was the spawn of Satan.

Malfoy was perhaps even the devil incarnate himself.

But most of all...

Malfoy was his **enemy**.

Well, _perhaps_ Malfoy wasn't his enemy _anymore_, but still. If he ever decided that a bloke was going to snog him. it certainly wasn't going to be Malfoy. Malfoy was _well_...Malfoy was all blond hair and bony with a permanent scowl screwed up on his face. He wasn't attractive in any way and he _certainly_ wasn't nice. He was arrogant, cruel, and manipulative; Harry hated him.

Okay, _maybe_ he didn't hate him.

Not anymore.

Perhaps not ever.

But he certainly didn't want to kiss Malfoy. That was just gross. _Wasn't it?_

All these thoughts were taking over Harry's mind when he realized that at some point during this kiss, Malfoy's grasp on his hands had been released. Somehow without even realizing it, Harry had entwined his hands in Malfoy's silky locks.

_How did that happen_? _And why does Malfoy have such nice hair? That lucky bastard._

He removed his hands at once, like a child who realised he had brushed up against the scalding stove. Still, for some reason he hadn't broken this _revolting_ so-called kiss.

Was it _actually_ a kiss?

It felt more like an _attack_, a desperate mauling. Malfoy was ravishing him, attempting to strangle him with his tongue. This had to be some new form of torture he had concocted, his latest scheme. It had to be.

_Didn't it? Didn't it?_

Yes. He was trying to kill him; it was so obvious now—he could feel Malfoy's nails clawing into his back and his heart beat fluttering. Yes, Malfoy was probably high on the adrenaline and power of the situation.

_What a freak. _

He had Harry right where he wanted him, and some point soon, he was going to make his move.

Strike. _When? When?_

Harry was too astounded to move and perhaps even a little frightened, so he allowed the Slytherin to deepen the attack.

_Oh God, why was he letting him?_

Eurkea! Of course, that was it. The reason why he hadn't broken the kiss. He was too_ scared_. Simple as that. He knew that Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but being brave isn't the same as being suicidal and Malfoy was quite unstable, barmy even.

If he moved, Malfoy might kill him.

_I mean this is Malfoy after all._

Who knew what other tricks the slippery Slytherin had up his sleeve? No, it would be stupid to break the embrace. Besides, Malfoy wasn't kissing him, not really. If he was, then well, Malfoy was a _horrible_ kisser. He kissed too hard to be a good kisser—too desperately—that is, if he was actually trying to kiss him in the first place. No, he was too hungry; his mouth was engulfing Harry's and his tongue was exploring Harry's entire mouth. What was Malfoy trying to do, eat his tonsils?

No, this wasn't a kiss. Definitely not.

A kiss, a kiss was what he had shared with Cho Chang, Ginny, even Hermione that one time. It was soft, sweet, and pleasurable. Kissing Ginny had been nice. It had made his whole body tingle and his heart had felt warm. She had been rather shy about it, only barely parting her lips and letting Harry explore _her_ mouth with _his_ tongue. It had been peaceful and his mind had been clear.

Not like now.

No, this wasn't a kiss; it couldn't be a kiss.

There was **nothing** sweet about it. It didn't warm his heart. It didn't make him feel calm or happy. It made him light headed and nauseous, much like Malfoy always made him feel; his stomach was all in muddle. Harry's mouth felt violated and he felt a heat rushing in his face, pulsating throughout his entire body.

No, this wasn't the same.

This was_ too_ ferocious. Too raw. It was too painful. His whole body burned and ached; he was practically trembling. Malfoy was hurting him. Hurting him like he always did.

_Yes, that was it._

It wasn't a kiss; he was so sure now.

Definitely not.

This felt the same as all those time Malfoy had pounded into him with his fists, all those times they had rolled around beating the daylights out of each other, earning each other late night detentions. They had set a record you know, the two students who had served the most detentions in six years, surpassing even the Weasley twins.

_Yes, that was it_. _It was so obvious now_.

Why did it take him so long to realise it? Malfoy was _not_ kissing him; he was thrashing him with his mouth. Malfoy was pounding the daylights out of him-no, out of each other, like they had so many countless times before. It wasn't strange. It was a normal occurrence. A part of the infamous Potter-Malfoy rivalry.

It was _supposed_ to be painful.

It explained why it was so vigorous, why he could barely breathe. Yes, he would probably end up in the hospital wing after this; in the bed farthest away from Malfoy, the same way Madam Pomfrey always arranged them to make sure they didn't hex each other in their sleep. Indeed, he was sure of it. His blood was boiling—his entire body pulsating—he couldn't take it anymore. He needed a release. He was going to kill Malfoy.

Then it stopped.

He gasped exasperatedly when Malfoy finally released him. Malfoy looked at him with cool grey eyes; there was a light dancing behind his eyes. He was _utterly_ amused.

Harry was horrified.

Why was Malfoy so calm? Had he meant to do that? _No, there's no way._

Obviously, it wasn't a kiss he had already decided that. Malfoy just liked torturing him. It was his favourite hobby. Always had been.

_Yes, that was it. _

Obviously.

Still, Harry's blood began to boil again. Just looking at stupid Malfoy seemed to have that effect.

**~::::::::::::::~**

Harry shoved Malfoy violently, knocking him against the nearby windowsill and was amazed at how far they had wandered during their kiss. _When did they move?_ He was too absorbed in his own thoughts and disbelief that he didn't realise that the corner of the windowsill had struck Malfoy in the eye brutally. Before Malfoy had a chance to react, Harry punched him in the face.

"What the hell is your problem Malfoy? I don't appreciate being molested!"

Malfoy clutched his eye protectively and bit down on his lower lip. "I'm sorry," he drawled virulently. "I don't know _what _came over me. I have these _impulses _sometimes," his grey eyes were lost behind his blond fringe. He certainly _didn't_ sound sorry.

Harry glared at him furiously.

"Don't worry _Potter_," the blond continued, he spat out Harry's name in the same revolting tone he usually only reserved for Mudblood "it _won't_ happen again. You have my word."

He paused for a second and finally locked eyes with Harry.

"_However_," he began coolly, starting to regain his usual composure, "you didn't seem to be _too_ repulsed at the moment. You could've pushed me off you know. I know I've been working out with Oliver and everything, but I'm not _that_ strong you git. You could've pushed me off, snapped me out of it," he purred his voice raspy and dangerous. "It seems to _me_ that you didn't seem to mind it all that much. Not _my_ problem _Potter._" Malfoy had leaned over and whispered that last sentence in Harry's ear.

_God, Malfoy was infuriating._

Before Harry could respond, Malfoy had turned away from him, Harry couldn't help but notice that his dark robes swished gracefully, in tune with his every step. Malfoy was strolling down the corridor, clutching at his eye again probably going to see Madam Pomfrey—_what a pansy_.

"SOD OFF MALFOY," Harry screamed half way down the corridor. "STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD! THIS FRIENDSHIP OR WHATEVER THIS IS...IS OVER!"

Granted, Harry's reply was a little slow, but it was better than staying silent.

Harry thought that he heard Malfoy respond—"gladly", but he was too far away to be sure. Harry's whole body was trembling and he had the urge to go on some sort of destructive rampage_. _

_Fucking Malfoy! Fucking Malfoy! Why does he always make my blood seethe?_

* * *

**A/N**: I bet most people know this, but for those of you that don't, Tabula Rasa means "unwritten tablet" or "scraped tablet"(literal latin translation) that is ready to be written on again. Basically, Draco asks Harry for a clean slate for them to start over with when they agree on their truce. That's why I named this story Tabula Rasa.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I just borrow them from time to time for my own personal amusement.

**A/N:** The first part of this story could almost stand alone as a one-shot and this part is taking a little bit of a different turn than most people expect, but I have my reasons. Harry is going through a rollercoaster of emotions right now: confused, violent, livid, now guilty, and possibly concerned? If you like the ideas the ideas I put into this I'll continue it.

* * *

**Tabula Rasa**

**Part 2**

Harry didn't see Malfoy for the next three days. Malfoy was missing from the Great Hall at all meal times and he hadn't shown up to any of his classes on Monday. Not that Harry noticed. Why would he notice Malfoy? They weren't friends anymore. They never had been. He **hated **Malfoy. Still, it was strange that he was missing. Besides, he got a strange impression from all the glowering Slytherins that something was wrong.

Secretly, he hoped that he was okay.

_Fucking Malfoy._ _What a git._

On Monday evening though, about halfway through dinnertime, Malfoy appeared. Harry could feel his blood boiling again, fury flowing through his cheeks; he was getting ready to confront the arrogant Slytherin. Harry was holding his breath, waiting for the foul git to come over and antagonize Harry and the other Gryffindors, as he did every mealtime.

_This time would be different_. He was prepared.

Harry was was ready to give Malfoy a piece of his mind, when Malfoy did the _inexplicable_ and sauntered right by the Gryffindor table never once glancing at any of them. He strolled right by the Ravenclaw table without flashing his usual devastating smile at the girls, glared furiously at the Hufflepuffs, and took his place at the head of the Slytherin table between Pansy and Blaise.

_No, this wasn't right._

What did Malfoy think he was playing at? He _always_ came over during dinner and insulted Harry. He was a creature of habit. It was his ritual.

Always. What's the git playing at now? Probably some new scheme.

_Stupid Malfoy._

Harry watched Malfoy through narrowed eyes as he casually conversed with Pansy and Blaise. He appeared unfazed, completely calm and collected. Harry could feel his blood curl again. Why the hell was the prat ignoring _him_?Malfoy wouldn't even lock eyes with Harry and he had his stupid poncey hair in his face again. More so than usual. His stupid hair was covering his ugly, stupid face.

_That was so Malfoy._

God, he hated Malfoy. Ignoring Harry and the entire Great Hall liked he owned the place, as if he were too good to speak with anyone that wasn't one of his precious purebloods. _What's so good about purebloods anyway_? They're probably all inbred that's why they're all so ugly.

_Yeah, stupid Pansy and Zabini fawning over Malfoy._ He was probably just skiving off class and then Harry's mouth dropped.

* * *

Pansy had reached up and softly brushed Malfoy's fringe out of his eyes. Malfoy winced slightly, grabbed her wrist, and threw it back at her. "Don't," he threatened and Pansy looked away probably embarrassed. Malfoy had wanted to keep his face hidden underneath his pale fringe, but it was too late. Under his fringe, Malfoy's left eye was half-closed and swollen up to the size of a miniature snitch; he had a dark bruise that stretched from his eyelid to the middle of his cheek. It was a horrid violet, blackish colour and his cheekbone appeared to be almost protruding from underneath his pale skin. His skin was a ghastly greyish colour, definitely not the usual pale white that Harry had noticed so often, small cuts seemed to take over the entire left side of his face.

Harry's gut wrenched and started contorting in a manner he never knew possible. He had just been punched in the gut.

Had he really done this to Malfoy? Had he really punched him that hard and pushed him that violently against the windowsill that he had practically destroyed the left side of his face?

_There's no way_. _No, it couldn't be._

Malfoy was obnoxious; _everyone_ hated Malfoy, not just him. He probably made another one of his horrid remarks and someone finally gave him what was coming to him.

_Yes, that was probably it_.

Someone else had destroyed Malfoy's face. He probably deserved it. Harry could breathe again, he knew he wasn't responsible, but for some reason his stomach hadn't gotten the memo yet and he felt the need to empty it.

* * *

On his way out of the dining hall, he ran into Blaise. He grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and threw him firmly against the wall.

_Oh no, not this again_.

He desperately hoped that Blaise wasn't going to kiss him. If he was, at least Harry could empty the contents of his sloshing stomach on him.

_That would be a plus._

Harry flinched and closed his eyes in anticipation. Once he opened them again, Blaise was pressed up against him hard: his ebony wand knifed against his throat.

"Potter," he spat much in the same way as Malfoy usually did.

_What is it with these Slytherins and treating his name as if it were an insult?_

"I don't know what type of _game_ you think you're playing at," he continued his voice like venom. "But it stops now. I know that you and Draco have always loved carving each other up, but I thought that was _over_. _Draco _thought it was over that you two had reached some sort of strange understanding. That you were no longer enemies. I told him he was _mad_, that _you _would never care for him, but I never actually thought this whole friendship facade was some ploy to attempt to kill him!"

"What? I wasn't trying to kill him. I was just..."

"You were just WHAT?" roared Blaise. "Trying to ruin him? Humiliate him? Blind him for life? He trusted you. He's a fool."

"Malfoy's a foul git you know that Zabini, he started it, he always does. I didn't push him that hard, he's just milking this. Why doesn't he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?"

" _Why doesn't he just let Madam Pomfrey fix him up?" _he mimicked in a tone way too screechy to be Harry's voice.

"Because you can't use healing potion so close to an eye you _idiot_, don't you ever read? Besides—he's allergic to healing potion, you know that. That's probably why you did it..."

"What? Malfoy's allergic to healing potion? I never knew that. He never told me," Harry responded his voice lower now.

"How could you _not_ know that? You've put him in the hospital countless times. Why do you think it always takes him so long to recover from your brawls? What did you think that he just likes to sit in the hospital in pain instead of being instantly healed? That he likes wearing splints, braces, patches and whatever else you do to him?"

"No, I just always thought he was milking it. That's so _Malfoy_ pretending like he's dying. He's injured me _too_ countless times. I know it was never that bad. He broke my nose and jaw once ..."

"You idiot, you're even denser than I thought. Malfoy's _always_ been allergic to healing potions. Your broken nose, jaw, whatever, were always healed instantly—_obviously_, you always feel some discomfort afterwards, which is actually mostly a side effect of the healing potions themselves—"

Harry looked at Blaise his emerald green eyes darkening as he continuously blinked his eyes, desperately hoping that this is all some prank and that Harry really wasn't _that_ clueless.

"My God, you really don't know anything. It must be true _then,_ what they say, that _those muggles_ dropped you on your head as a child."

Harry glared furiously at Blaise and was considering lunging at him.

"Anyway, Draco is allergic to ALL healing potions, he has to heal the other way, the _you know_, the _other_ way."

"What the muggle way?" He inquired.

"No, not the _muggle _way, he's a bloody pureblood wizard. I suppose that you don't know that muggle medicine is toxic to purebloods."

Harry's eyes widened again.

"Of course you don't," he continued. "You don't know _anything_. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you, but I guess it's necessary, so you don't keep killing Draco. No, he doesn't heal the _muggle_ way. He just has to bear it. I guess you could say, he heals the natural way, _holistic_ or something like that. He can't take pain potions or healing potions he just has to deal with all of it that's why his recoveries are always so long. He's NOT milking it you prat," he snapped at Harry.

"I-I don't believe you," Harry stammered. "I-I didn't know... Besides, if that's really the case, then why isn't he scarred all over? We've had quite a few encounters where...well _you know_...he was _accidently _cut."

Blaise scoffed at Harry. "Right, accidentally cut _Potter_. You really are dense, aren't you? I never said he was allergic to anti-scarring potion or dittany, did I? Luckily, he's not, the vain git that he is, but he _still_ has to deal with the pain the entire time. Always. I can't believe you didn't know _Potter_? I always thought you just liked seeing him in pain and mocking him while you were _fine_ after you're little fights."

"I-I.."

"Look, it doesn't matter now _Potter_, it's just that as you know, Draco is ill and after this last little incident between you two, he's gotten worse. I've already spoken with him and he promised me that he's going to stay away from you. So just do the same okay? He promises and the rest of the Slytherins do too, that we'll leave you and all your little Gryffindor friends alone. We'll pretend that you don't exist. Just leave Draco alone, okay? I know he's a prat, but I'll do my best to keep him in line. Just please, Potter leave him alone."

"Uh..uh.. is he okay?" Harry asked timidly.

"Haven't you been listening? Of course, he's _not_ okay he's spent the last three days in the hospital wing. Just leave it _Potter_, you've done enough."

Harry's mind was completely clouded over—he was was about to respond, he wanted desperately to respond, to defend himself, but he just couldn't think of anything to say. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of and took off. He sprinted down the corridor, straight through the east wing of the castle, way past what he thought were the Hufflepuff dorms, way past the Ravenclaw dorms, and all the way out of the castle, knocking down anyone who was foolish enough to get in his way. Once he was outside, he ran straight to the quidditch pitch thankful that that it was deserted and finally stopped as he greedily gasped for air. It was a long time since he had last run. He supposed he was out of shape.

It didn't really matter know. Nothing matters now.

_This couldn't be true_.

It just couldn't be. All those fights with Malfoy...their truce...why hadn't Malfoy ever mentioned it?

_Why hadn't anyone ever mentioned it_?

Did everyone really think that Harry was that much of a sadistic bastard that he and Malfoy would brawl and each of them would wind up in the hospital wing twice a month, with Harry knowing that Malfoy couldn't heal properly that he was supposedly _ill_, as Blaise had told him? Is that why after their brawls Malfoy usually left him alone for a while because he needed time to heal properly before their next brawl?

_It couldn't be. _

He was a monster.

His stomach twisted in knots again; sour bile ramming its way up his oesophagus, Harry tried to push it back down like before, but this time, he actually did lose his dinner.

_Oh God. This isn't happening._

Perhaps it wasn't true. You couldn't trust Slytherins, perhaps Zabini was lying.

_Yes, that must be it_. _It had to be_.

He was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors are good. And Slytherins are bad. It was as simple as that.

_Wasn't it? Wasn't it? _

Yes, there was never a wizard that hadn't gone bad that wasn't in Slytherin.

That's what Hagrid had told him. What Ron had told him. What _everyone _believed.

Yes, Slytherins are bad and Gryffindors are good. Blaise had to be lying.

**~fin~** or end of chapter if people like this and want me to continue.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, what did everyone think? Don't kill me, I know that Harry's upset and you feel bad for him, but at least now Harry is no longer pissed at Draco, right? Is Blaise telling the truth? Perhaps. I'm not going to tell you what Malfoy's intentions are or whether or not you can trust him because it's a secret and only I know the answer to that...muuahahaha...but don't worry if people like this short fic I will attempt to lengthen it and turn it into a story. I've never really written a slash scene before, so I tried my best to write a believable one, especially while in Harry's head. Let me know what you think and how I can make it better. I've tried my best to keep all the dialogue as in character as possible. If you don't think that Harry, Malfoy, Blaise, or whoever's dialogue sounds real or that they wouldn't speak that way let me know and I'll try my best to change it. Also, if some part of the story was hard to follow, or sounds awkward let me know and I'll go back and fix it. At this point, I don't have a beta and if anyone is interested I would love for you to help me. If not, if everyone could just leave me some constructive criticisms and point out any errors including grammatical errors, I would greatly appreciate it. That's all for now. Thanks so much for reading; any type of reviews, positive or negative are greatly appreciated. Cheers.

**~Icicle**


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